


Memories of You

by sjhw_tolerance (mscorkill)



Series: 2010 Fic Project [4]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-07
Updated: 2012-04-07
Packaged: 2017-11-03 04:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/377355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mscorkill/pseuds/sjhw_tolerance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saving the world has never cost so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of You

**Author's Note:**

> For 10+2 in 2010; Season Four--Entity.
> 
> Originally posted April 2010

MEMORIES OF YOU

_You know, you really will like me when you get to know me. Oh, I adore  
you already, Captain._

_You want me? No, no—not like this, not like—_

_It was an honor serving with you._

_Sir, you've gotta’ get out of here! So do you._

_I didn't leave…because I'd have rather died myself than lose Carter. Because  
I care about her…a lot more than I'm supposed to._

“This one has memory of you.”

From the moment the transmission was terminated, Octillion knows that the chances of completing his mission diminish exponentially with each passing hour; however the mathematical calculations are familiar and soothing, a welcome contrast to the chaos of this strange world. Taking refuge in the woman could be viewed as a last minute act of desperation and has taken more out of him than he expected, the incredibly complex and delicate functions of her processing unit require constant monitoring. But his world has to be preserved, no matter the cost—to this world or to him. The normally effortless flow of data that is his life is now dependent on the fragile form he inhabits and the archaic keyboard through which he negotiates his terms.

“This one is important.”

The one called O’Neill speaks. “She is.”

“For this reason, this one was chosen. You will not terminate this one in order to destroy me.”

Octillion calmly makes the bold statement, which is partly truth and partly bluff. Either the one called Doctor Jackson or the woman would have suited his need; both entities containing a curiosity that ultimately led to the woman’s capture. And while he knows from the data he has accessed that both are considered of value to this world, it isn’t until he is in the woman that he realizes his choice is of infinite value. The one called O’Neill will not destroy her and that gives him a very precious commodity—time. Octillion has no illusion that he will ever escape this world and return to his own. It was clear in those first few frightening moments after the initial attack on his world that swift and immediate action was required and he had volunteered, fully aware that if he succeeded in his mission he would not return to his home.

“It went into Sam out of self preservation.”

Octillion quickly identifies the new source of auditory data, the woman known as Doctor Fraiser, but his focus never wavers from O’Neill. Though he knows another is in command, it is O’Neill who has the power. “I cannot be removed from this mind without terminating. You will not terminate this one. None of you will. Therefore I will survive.”

The synthesized voice remains constant, but Octillion can tell his energy levels are dangerously low, as are those of his captive, the cumbersome form of communication and the effort involved in controlling the motor function of the woman draining them both. With time he will have more control over the woman’s body, for now he needs to rebuild and conserve his resources so he can fulfill his mission and preserve his world. With carefully controlled movements, he lets her body relax back onto the bed and closes her eyes, terminating the interrogation and shutting out the alien world.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If you wanna’ preserve your world, leave Major Carter right now.”

Data floods his borrowed processing unit, electrical impulses careening wildly through neural pathways, synapses firing in all directions, the unexpected barrage grinding the fragile control he has on his captive’s motor control to a halt, leaving her trembling. No matter how Octillion reroutes and manipulates the data, the answer is always the same. O’Neill will do exactly as he threatens. Beyond the information he has accessed from the man’s file, Octillion can feel that same certainty from the memories of his captive.

It seems a fair enough trade. Major Carter for the preservation of his world; his life for the preservation of Major Carter. It is not the outcome he wants, but it is the one he expects. But not here…there is too much interference from all the medical equipment and machinery.

Ripping off the electrodes, Octillion flees the isolation room; they follow him, their guns drawn, but he is only allowed to go so far before they block his way. The space is wide and open and Octillion turns and faces O’Neill, raising the woman’s arms as he opens all his circuits, letting his energy flow out of her and into the emptiness of the air. He wonders briefly what it will be like, to cease to exist in this foreign world, all that he is and was lost forever in the millions of atoms and electrons and molecules that are invisible to these beings.

To his surprise, it is not unpleasant and he begins to feel his consciousness drift away, only vaguely aware now of those around him. And then the dark man speaks and the unthinkable happens. The first blast of energy jolts through Octillion’s fading awareness. He doesn’t understand at first, he’s leaving the woman; she’ll be returned to O’Neill, just as he demanded. With the weapon still aimed at his captive’s fragile body, he suddenly understands. They believe he is cheating them, escaping into the miles and miles of wire and circuitry within their base.

And he knows what will happen to the woman if O’Neill fires again.

Honor and fear for his world demand that Octillion keep his part of their bargain and with one last powerful burst of energy he does the only thing he can to save the woman—and save his world. Before the second shot of the weapon hits him, Octillion somehow feels when all that is Samantha Carter leaves her body, sent into the safety of the security camera; her empty body dropping to the floor while the last of his consciousness swirls and arcs around her, engulfed by over-powering energy of the alien weapon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel Jackson is an observer by nature and by training. He suspects his team will say he’s more aware of ruins, artifacts and the past than he is of what happens around him. And perhaps he is, but that doesn’t mean he ignores those around him or the innumerable influences of the daily operation of the SGC on them—and his team. And right now his team is wounded and perhaps more frightening than that, two people he counts as his friends are slowly dying, their life blood seeping out in an endless river that it seems nothing can stop.

It’s been a rough year, for all of them. Tok’ra armbands, Martouf’s death, memory stamps, kidnapped by a Unas, lost in space, lost in a submarine, Teal’c lost and even Hammond lost, no matter how temporarily. It has taken its toll, even allowing for an almost idyllic three week forced vacation in a deserted Goa’uld pleasure palace. But none of them had died…or killed one of their own. Until now.

It’s a beautiful spring day and the drive across town is filled with trees bursting with pink and white blossoms, gardens filled with brightly colored flowers he doesn’t know the name of and parks filled with people soaking up the sun after the long cold winter. Daniel rolls down the window of his car, letting the warm breeze blow through, the fresh clean scent and the bright sun a balm after days spent deep in the bowels of the mountain. Spring has burst in Jack’s neighborhood as well, though perhaps a bit more sedately in his quiet neighborhood. The trees and grass are green, the flower beds all well tended, but there are fewer people here, the houses and their inhabitants sheltered and secluded.

Daniel pulls into Jack’s driveway and he can hear the distant sound of a lawn mower when he shuts off the engine. He sits for a moment and looks at the house; the patio is barren of any furniture, the door is shut and the blinds are closed. To the casual observer, the house looks empty and deserted, but he knows Jack is in there. It isn’t often that Daniel feels compelled to confront the lion in his den, he does have a strong sense of self-preservation after all, but this is about Jack…and Sam.

Daniel sits for a moment staring at the shuttered windows and sighs. He’s been in this position before and he has the suspicion it isn’t going to be any more pleasant now than it was a year ago. Only this time he hasn’t drawn the short straw, he’s here of his own volition and right now he’s burning daylight. When he finally gets out of the car, he slams the door a little harder than usual and bounds up the wooden steps; he’s pretty sure Jack already knows he’s there, but Daniel doesn’t want there to be any doubt.

Pounding on the door, he rocks back on his heels and waits, straining to hear for any movement from indoors. Hearing nothing, he knocks again and when there’s still no response, he shrugs and tries the door knob. It turns easily under his hand and he steps cautiously into the house. It’s dark and quiet in the house and it takes his eyes a moment to adjust after the bright afternoon sun; he takes a few steps and wonders where to look for Jack first when he hears the unmistakable sound of a bottle cap pinging off the wood floor in the living room.

“I wondered how long it’d take you to get here.”

Daniel takes his time going down the steps into the living room, surveying the room and its occupant. The room is dim, besides the closed blinds on the windows, there aren’t any lights on in the room. Jack is sitting on the couch, a long neck held casually in one hand. He looks calm and relaxed, but Daniel has known his friend a long time and he knows his casual demeanor is merely a façade. Jack’s dressed in his usual off duty attire, khakis and a dark green shirt. By the visible stubble on his face, it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved for several days, also not unusual down-time behavior.

But none of that worries Daniel, what worries him are the dark circles and bleak look in Jack’s eyes, that and the half-a-dozen or so empty beer bottles littering the coffee table. “Got another one of those?” Daniel asks, slinging his jacket over the arm of the chair across from Jack.

Jack grunts something and reaches down next along the side of the sofa. Daniel hears the chink of glass against glass, the slosh of water and Jack lifts out a cold brew and hands it to him.

“Thanks,” Daniel says, sitting down in the arm chair. Screwing off the top, he tucks the cap in his pocket and studies Jack’s set-up—a small cooler tucked between the sofa and end table, the dark amber necks of the beer bottles peeking up over the top of the cooler. “Nice set up,” he comments, gesturing towards the cooler.

Jack grunts again and Daniel stifles his automatic sigh; so it's going to be like this, he thinks. He takes a swallow of the cold beer and tries to figure out the best way to bring up the events of the last week.

“Daniel, just say whatever’s on your mind and then leave.”

Daniel’s eyebrows shoot up. It’s not that he’s surprised Jack is being so blunt, that’s expected. What he doesn’t expect is the weariness and defeat coloring his voice. “All right,” Daniel replies, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, the damp beer bottle clutched in his hands. “There’s no way you could have known what the entity was doing when it left the infirmary, Jack.” There’s no response, so Daniel continues. “You know, you’re more like the entity than you realize.”

Jack’s eyes narrow and his hands clench so tight on the bottle he’s holding that his knuckles turn white. “Daniel.”

Daniel pretends not to hear the warning in the terse comment. “It sacrificed everything to save its world.” Daniel sits back in his chair, getting comfortable. “Just like you.”

Jack surges to his feet and Daniel takes a swallow of his beer, watching his friend carefully. “I am not like that thing, Daniel.”

“You’ve never gone on a suicide mission, Jack?” Other men would have fled from Jack’s glower, but not Daniel. “You’ve never had to make the choice between what you want and what’s best for your planet?”

“Every fucking day,” Jack growls.

Daniel knows what he’s doing is comparable to poking a wounded animal with a stick and he feels a twinge of regret that he has to push Jack this way, but he consoles himself that it is ultimately for his own good. “Then what’s the big deal this time, Jack?”

“Dammit, Daniel! It’s not enough that everyone from Hammond down to the night janitor knows, you’re going to make me say it out loud?” Jack shouts the last words, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his agitation.

“Make you say what?” Daniel asks, keeping his voice mild.

“Gahh!” Jack’s beer bottle flies across the room, it smashes into the fireplace, amber glass and beer flying everywhere. He’s panting now like he’s been running for his life and Daniel figures that particular analogy has never truer than at this moment.

“I love her, Daniel,” Jack snarls. “Is that what you want to hear? I love her and I had to kill her.” He seems to deflate then, all the anger leaving and he sinks back down on the sofa, elbows on his knees and his face hidden in his hands. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled—and beaten. “I had to kill her.”

Daniel feels a surge of sympathy for his friend. He’s all too familiar with grief and loss, but there is a big difference between him and Jack. Shau’re is gone from his life forever but there’s still a chance for Jack—and Sam. “Have you told Sam?”

Jack looks up, his face even more haggard looking. “Wha?”

“Have you told Sam?”

“Have I told Sam what, Daniel? That I killed her to save the planet? That as soon as Fraiser pulled the plug on her I was going to eat a bullet? Do you think that’s really what she wants to hear?”

“I think,” Daniel says slowly, “that’s exactly what she needs to hear.”

“And then what?” Jack honestly looks confused and Daniel feels another surge of sympathy for the man. Love shouldn’t ever be this complicated.

“I don’t honestly know, Jack. That’s up to you and Sam.” Daniel sets down his half empty bottle of beer and stands up, grabbing his jacket. Resting his hand on Jack’s hunched shoulder for a brief moment, he says, “What I do know is I would do anything to have Shau’re back.” Jack looks up and Daniel’s smile is bittersweet. “You’ve got Sam back, don’t let her slip away.”

With a gentle squeeze, Daniel releases Jack’s shoulder and makes his way to the front door. Jack doesn’t say anything and Daniel lets himself out because really, what more is there for him to say? It’s all up to Jack now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack sits in his truck on the street in front of Sam’s house. The bright sunny day has faded into evening, the warmth in the air giving way to the early evening chill of late spring in the mountains. There are lights on in her house, but no other sign of activity. He knows she’s there, much like Daniel knew he was home, and it’s Daniel who has kept him posted on her condition. But unlike Daniel, he hasn’t decided yet whether he wants to see her. But he’s not there for very long when the curious looks of the few passersby nudge him into action.

Daniel’s right, though hell will freeze over before Jack ever admits it. He naively assumed that after the whole Tok’ra armband debacle and Za’tarc witch hunt that he and Sam could resume life as usual. But it seemed the deeper they try to bury their feelings the more wicked the backlash and he’s not sure he can go through it again. It killed something inside him when he pressed the trigger on the zat for the second time. And he hadn’t been lying when he’d told Daniel he would eat a bullet for her. He would rather die than lose her and if she was dead, he was already dead.

Jack gets out of the truck, glad he has his leather jacket once he leaves its warmth. The street lights wink on as he reaches her porch. Her rings the doorbell and waits, peering through one of the windows when she doesn’t answer. He doesn’t see any movement, so he rings the bell again and even though he can hear its distant chime, for good measure he pounds on the door. He waits, feeling frustration and something he’d just as soon ignore building inside him, and is just about to leave when he hears the faint sound of her voice. “Back here.”

He follows her voice around the side yard, traipsing carefully along the small flower bed and the neighboring hedgerow and he emerges in her backyard. He doesn’t see her at first, her backyard is bigger than he would have expected, the grass coming in thick and green. Her car is parked under a small carport; a rock pathway leads from it to her back door where a few square yards of cement comprise a minimal patio. A chain link fence and a row of dark green yews separate her yard from the alley and the house on the opposite side, the boxwood and privet just starting to fill in to provide even more privacy.

“Sam?”

“Over here.”

Jack finally spots her, following the voice to a more secluded corner of the yard where there’s a small garden area and a bird bath. She’s lying on a blanket, looking up to the sky. He stops at the foot of her makeshift bed and looks down at her, his eyes slowly adjusting to the twilight. Against the dark colors of the blanket he can just make out her shape, her face a pale oval beneath her blonde hair. He thinks she's wearing some kind of sweat suit and there’s a blanket rumpled over her legs. Jack carefully drops down on his knees in the grass. “Hey.”

Her head moves and she looks at him. “Hey.”

He doesn’t know what to say or even where to start, the rampage of emotions inside of him overwhelming everything. Now that he’s closer to her, he can see her face more clearly and he searches it for signs of anything…fear…disgust…pleasure. Her lips curve into a smile under his scrutiny and she lifts her arm, reaching towards him, her cool fingers curling around his hand and she lightly tugs. “Come here.”

Jack doesn’t even stop to consider the potential consequences, the need to be close to her overpowering everything else and he lets her pull him down into her arms.

She’s soft and warm and he curls up against her side, resting his head on her breast. His abused and tired bones are relieved to discover she’s actually lying on some sort of soft pad instead of the hard ground while the part of him that’s starving for her touch would lay willingly with her on a bed of nails. Jack sighs, sinking down into her, the tension inside him that has kept him so tightly wound starting to uncoil. She’s warm and soft, one arm wrapped securely around him while she lightly strokes his hair with the other.

Darkness settles around them, the street noises and neighboring sounds fading as the sky darkens and the stars quietly twinkle overhead. He thinks he could stay like this forever, listening to the sound of her heartbeat instead of seeing it scrolling along a heart monitor, feeling the rise and fall of her chest when she breathes instead of hearing the mechanical inflation and deflation of the breathing machine. She’s warm and real and alive in his arms, but even through his relief there is a still a dark chasm looming between them.

“There’s the moon,” she murmurs. Jack turns his head slightly, the three quarter moon just visible to the southeast. They watch quietly while more stars appear; a dog barks in the distance when a car door slams. Her fingers continue to stroke leisurely through his hair and she sighs softly. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see the moon and stars again.”

The fist around his heart tightens and squeezes so hard he can scarcely breathe. “It was a trap.”

The hand in his hair never stops and she replies, “I know that now.”

Remembering his conversation with Daniel, he rolls slightly and lifts his head, searching her eyes. “I killed you.”

Her hand slowly glides to his face, caressing his cheek. “You saved me…you saved us all.”

Her expression is serene and he wonders how she can be so calm about everything that happened. She shouldn’t be this accepting and understanding and everything he wants to say gets choked up inside him, so he doesn’t say anything at all. She smiles and presses lightly against his chest, urging him to lie back down. And he does without protest, because even if he doesn’t deserve her forgiveness, he’ll take whatever she offers.

“There’s the Big Dipper.”

Her slender arm rises, pointing towards the northeast; the familiar constellation takes shape with its two stars pointing towards the North Star, shining brighter than all the rest. He thinks perhaps there’s something prophetic about finding the North Star and Sam finding her way home. Or maybe it’s just a beautiful spring night and he’s found his way home. Either way, it’s enough for now to lie with his head on her shoulder and build memories, watching the constellations slowly drift across the night sky.

THE END


End file.
